The Right Thing
by xLonelyDreamerx
Summary: There's a difference between doing things right and doing the right thing. Aka Mallory doesn't kill Michael and forms another plan [MalloryxMichael]


**Summary** : There's a difference between doing things right and doing the right thing.  
aka Mallory doesn't kill Michael and forms another plan.

 **Notes** : American horror story fucked me over again and I'm totally pissed with the ending. So, I'm here for the rescue!

* * *

" _Even if time travel is impossible, it is important that we understand why it is impossible."  
– Stephen Hawking_

* * *

The thing about drowning is that you don't actually inhale until right before you black out. Mallory almost drowned once when she was a kid. She could remember leaving the safety security of her father's arms because she was supposed to be a big girl and _"You have to know how to swim, Mal"_

The whole thing is called voluntary apnea, Mallory had googled it once and read that it's a natural instinct to not let any water.

It was true

As Mallory goes under the water, she can't help but keep her mouth sat until she feels her head is ready to explode. Her mouth finally opens and the water come in, but it's not cold.

Mallory is burning

She can feel a fire being form inside her body. _It hurts, it hurts!_ She wants to come up to the surface but she _can't_. Everything depends on her.

Her eyes snap open and she sees nothing but darkness.

It's not scary anymore, it's… it's actually kind of _peaceful_.

There isn't any pain or noise from the world.

Mallory fades and her last thought is that if this is what death is really like, then she might be alright.

.

.

Mallory wakes up outside of an old church and she doesn't know whether to laugh or cry. She gets up and notices that her clothes are strangely dry.

An old man with a concerned look approaches her.

"Are you alright, young lady?" He is old with little white hair on his almost baldhead. His face is strict but there's kindness in his eyes.

 _No, I'm not._ She wants to say. "I'm lost" is what comes out. "What year is it?"

She looks at the strand of golden hair and wonders, _did it work?_

The man doesn't reply instead he looks at her cautiously as if she is crazy and Mallory can't really blame him.

"Your nose is bleeding. Do you need me to take you to a hospital?"

Her hand touches her nose and truth be told the man is right.

 _It worked_

"Yes" she whispers, "I need help"

The man relaxes a bit and straightens his back. "Come on then," he gestures with his hand. "My son is a doctor at the hospital downtown. I can take you with my car. I promise I'm not a psycho"

Wiping her blood clumsily, Mallory gives him an encouraging smile. "I trust you"

 _It's myself that I don't trust_

The man whose name she discovers is David takes her to his car. On the way, they engage to a small talk mostly about her, where she's from, what she was doing along in the church, where her parents are. Mallory feeds him half-truths and lies.

David stops outside of a market to buy a pack of cigarettes. "Do you want something?"

Mallory shakes her head and thanks him. He was stupid for leaving a stranger inside his car but at least he was considerate.

"I'll be right back"

 _I won't be_

Mallory slides over the driver's seat, trying to bury the guilt for taking advantage of an old man's kindness.

 _After the deed is done, I'll return the car._ She vows as she starts driving.

Finding Michael's house is not as difficult as she thought to be. She only made a few stops to ask people where the Murder House was and they directed her to it.

It was an hour drive due to the traffic but it gave Mallory the time to enjoy all the things that she missed the most throughout the chaos; the clean air, the bright colours, the sky, the _sun_. God, she had missed the sun.

Eventually she arrives to a beautiful neighbourhood and now all she has to do is wait.

She quickly finds that waiting is the worst.

There are doubt in the back of her mind, whispering. You're about to commit murder.

Mallory shuts her eyes tightly; the weight of the mission feels suffocating. Cordelia said she was ready for it after many months of waiting, but Mallory still feels like the same lost girl before she had arrived at the academy.

Her head hits the seat so hard she immediately gets a headache.

 _You're being ridiculous._ She tries to reason. This is the Antichrist, for God's sake! He killed your sisters.

The thought of them only made the tight knot worse in her stomach and she inhales deeply, thinking that if Cordelia or Myrtle were here it would be easier.

You are doing a service, not a murder. She repeats inside her head over and over again like a prayer.

A loud thud causes her to jump up, and her eyes immediately go to the figure leaving the house.

Mallory frowns, this figure was a fucking teen, with a yellow shirt and a worn out jean jacket that was too small for his lean body. With a startled realisation, Mallory realises she had never actually seen Michael before the outpost.

The boy barely resembled the cold, harsh man who wanted to murder her and her sisters. His hair was shorter and his face more soft and innocent looking but that could be due to the tears on his eyes.

 _God, he looks like a child_

Mallory huffs and scolds herself. This was the Antichrist, the man who would cause the apocalypse, the one who would murder her sisters.

What would they think of her for having second thoughts?

Cordelia would probably be sympathetic and wise. "It's alright Mallory, looks are deceiving but as a supreme we always have to take hard decisions"

Myrtle would be forgivable but firm. "Just remember who he is, my dear, and the desire to run him over will come instinctively"

Madison would be her usual self. "Just run him over already, bitch!"

Mallory swallows and repeated aloud with a trembling voice, "You are doing a service, not a murder."

Conveniently enough, the neighbourhood is empty as the young version of Michael Langdon walks away from his property.

Greeting her teeth, Mallory tries to remember everything that has happened before she left the outpost – _how long has it been? Days? Hours?_ – and twists the ignition key to start the car

 _You are doing a service, not a murder._

Her fingers tighten around the wheel.

As she gets closer, she takes a better look at him and she hates it.

He looks like a mess

 _You are doing a service, not a murder._

He looks up suddenly like a deer in headlights and Mallory slams down the brake pedal abruptly.

The car stops an inch away from him and he's frozen, staring at her wide eyed. Mallory feels a shiver running down her spine. She's out of breath and she feels like her heart is ready to explode.

Mallory had once thought to be a simple girl, then she discovered there was something extraordinary within her because she was a witch. From a magical creature, she turned back into a common assistant and then to a slave who was supposed to serve with no questioning.

She can't separate who she is anymore; a witch among witches, a mortal within mortals, or a servant against gods?

 _Sometimes I feel like there's someone buried inside me_

Even without the identity spell, that horrible feeling of being a prisoner inside her body is still there.

Mallory doesn't know who she is, but she knows what she can and can't do.

She can't commit a murder

The boy – _Michael_ (God, it was hard to think that the lost man-child was the same man with the demonic face from outpost 3) was still unmoved, it was as if he was waiting for her to run him over. Mallory beckons him to come close with a quick motion of her hand and he obeys like a puppet whose strings have been cut.

The air seems fragile as Mallory rolled down the window. "Are you alright? I didn't hit you, did I?" She asks with false tone of worry.

Michael seems to be waking up from his frozen state. He nods with a sniff, his eyes still red, his cheeks still wet with tears.

"Come with me"

It doesn't come out neither as a question nor as an order.

Michael looks at her hesitantly, biting his lower lip and Mallory still can't wrap herself around his childlike behaviour.

"I'm not supposed to talk to strangers…" He admits almost shyly.

"My name is Mallory, I'm here to help you."

Michael cocks his head to the side, staring deeply in her eyes as if searching for something. "How can you help me?"

Mallory blinks at the despair in his tone and her face softens at she points the seat beside her. "Come and find out"

Michael looks back at the house, nobody had come out – they were still alone, and then back at her.

Perhaps it was another trick by Satan to cause more destruction, or maybe it was a miracle made by God himself to give another chance. Or maybe everything in this world is a mess: God, the devil, and she's stupid enough to risk this golden opportunity of salvation.

Mallory doesn't know if there are fates who control their thread of life, but for whatever reason Michael walks around and gets inside the car.

It takes him ten whole minutes after they drove off to finally speak again.

"I'm Michael"

Mallory smirks, without taking her eyes off the road.

"I know"

* * *

 _"The most useful form of time travel would be to go back a year or two  
and rectify the mistakes we made."  
– Matt Lucas_

* * *

 **Notes:** This was a one-shot, but let me know if you want a continuation


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